


its a team, not a family (but really, they're the same thing)

by wondergirlcassie



Series: We're All A Little Lost (But We're Never Going To Stop Moving Forward) [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Ed Swears, Edward Elric Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Football Games, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jean Havoc is a football nerd from the country lands, Parental!Roy, Riza Hawkeye is the best, Roy Mustang cares for the Elric brothers, also havolina bc i love them, did i mention parental!roy?, edward and alphonse elric are precious beans who need lots of love, football is soccer in american, he has unknowingly adopted them, no editing yee haw to spelling mistakes, roy mustang is an adoptive father and no i do not take constructive criticism, slight/implied royai, team mustang is team family, the author writes about football and military roles, two things she knows absolutely nothing about rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondergirlcassie/pseuds/wondergirlcassie
Summary: Havoc looks over his shoulder and grins as they descend towards the open park space. “It’s tradition. We couldn’t let you guys spend your first year in the military with us and not celebrate National Hero’s Day in the traditional Team Mustang manner. That would be awful.”“Tradition?” Al asks.“Team Mustang?” Ed gapes.(orThe one in which Roy Mustang officially adopts Ed and Al into his team and everyone plays football and Ed struggles to deal with some very confused feelings because they're a team not a family but isn't that the same thing?)
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, parental Roy Mustang - Relationship
Series: We're All A Little Lost (But We're Never Going To Stop Moving Forward) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/664088
Comments: 26
Kudos: 370





	its a team, not a family (but really, they're the same thing)

**Author's Note:**

> so after years of not writing anything, here i am! enjoy some complete fluff and parental roy mustang and the great, great liberties i've taken with cannon's timeline. (mustang is in central for unexplained reasons). also, i don't really know how the amestrian military would function, but i do know business so if sorry if mustang sounds like the ceo of a company and not like an actual colonel (i tried, i promise) also, i am no football player (i tried) also, national hero's day is a holiday that i stole from germany, but i promise it was just for the name/inspiration! enjoy!

“ _Th_ _at’s an order Fullmetal_ , I don’t care about your happiness _, Fullmetal_.’ _Tch._ What a bastard.”

Despite the bright sunshine and warm weather, Edward Elric is scowling as he walks down the sidewalk in Central City, hands shoved into the pockets of his black pants and boots stomping along the pavement with more force than is really necessary.

“It’s supposed to be a _freaking national holiday_ but _nooo,_ not for me! ‘No rest of the wicked, _Fullmetal._ ’ What a load of shit.”

Beside him, Alphonse sighs. But it’s a testament to his little brother’s own disappointment that there is no ‘show some respect, brother,’ or ‘I’m sure the Colonel has a good reason for this, please stop being an ass, brother’ in response to Ed’s crude remarks.

Ed glances at his younger sibling from the corner of his eye, but Alphonse isn’t paying attention. He looks…despondent. Kind of how Ed feels, not that he’d ever admit it. It has been one year since Ed has joined the military and was titled the youngest state alchemist in Amestrian history. One year under the command of the Flame Alchemist, Hero of Ishval, Demon of the Sands, youngest man to carry the rank of Colonel, and a royal bastard. One year since his full recovery from his automail surgery and his vow to hunt to the ends of the earth for the philosopher’s stone, no matter how difficult.

It has only been one year, but difficult doesn’t even begin to describe how utterly terrifying and impossible his vow is. Hunting down the stone, hell, even _finding_ tips about the stone is more than challenging, and after every failed quest Ed can’t help but be consumed with the fear that _there are no more leads, there is_ no _stone._ Ed snorts under his breath. At least in this area, the Colonel has remained true to his word and has consistently managed to somehow provide them with leads. Where the Flame Alchemist comes up with the obscure references and faint rumors, Ed has no idea. But there’s always somehow been _something_ for them to go off of, and for that, at least, Ed is grateful.

But still. _It’s_ far from easy— _everything_ is far from easy. Living away from all he’s ever known, with two metal limbs, a brother living in a suit of armor, carrying a rank most soldiers take years to gain, remaining confident for Al’s sake, and showing no fear, ever? It has only been a year, but it feels almost unbearable. There are times where Ed has no clue how he’s going to keep the darkness that creeps into his mind at night at bay, and he’s terrified of what will happen he doesn’t.

The honking of a car passing them on their right shakes Ed out of his reverie, and he shoves those traitorous thoughts to the back of his mind with all the force he can mentally muster. Central City is alive around them, the majority of the citizens no doubt preparing to enjoy a day off and celebrate with friends and family. The shops that line the King's Way, the main street that originates from Central Command and leads back to it, are open and busy, the sidewalks peppered with crowds of pedestrians, and the roads clogged with the usual thick morning traffic.

Even a year later, the sight is so different from Ed’s home town that he’s hit with both a sense of wonderment at it all- the fashion, amount of people, and sheer business of the place, and a deep feeling of sadness that comes from missing something so much it hurts.

“I’m gonna kick his door down, then kick him in the face, then tell him we’re taking our time off and going back to Resembool, and he can _suck it_ for all I care.” Ed proclaims savagely, taking great pleasure in conjuring up his course of action.

“Brother,” Al says, his tone exasperated but fond and more engaged than he looked a few minutes ago. “You’ll lose your job if you do that, and we kind of _do_ need money.”

“Al, we’re alchemists. Push comes to shove we can _make_ money.”

“Brother, that’s illegal and you know it. We’d get caught, end up in jail, and _still_ have no money.”

“And then I’d just clap my hands together and _bam_ , we’re out of jail-”

“-and then we’d be hunted fugitives of the state and Hawkeye will be so _disappointed_ with us-”

“-and all I’d leave behind is one single little piece of paper with the words ‘suck it, Colonel Bastard,’ written in cursive so beautiful it would make his grandmother _weep_.”

Al just slaps his hand against his helmet and groans.

They’re closer to Central Command now, the massive fortified buildings looming up in front of them. The Amestrian flags fly proudly, and they pass more and more soldiers dressed in Amestrian blues. Some, who are already familiar with the reputation the Fullmetal Alchemist has gained stop and solute or stare wide-eyed. Others pay Ed no mind and instead stare wide-eyed at Al, their expressions of bafflement betraying their ignorance of the Fullmetal Alchemist and his suit of armor guardian angel. 

“I am kind of curious, though, about this assignment. What mission would be so important that the Colonel would assign it to us on a national holiday?” Al says as they make way their way closer towards the main entrance. “It would have been nice to visit Winry and Grandma while we could have.”

Ed scowls in agreement, but he can’t help but feel a small betraying sense of relief at the situation. Ed wants to visit Resembool too, he wants to see Granny and Winry again, but at the same time, he almost can’t stand the thought.

“Yeah, that’s the Colonel for you, ruining the dreams and hopes of children since-”

“Yo, Chief!” A voice calls from behind.

The brothers turn and see Havoc walking towards them, Breda at his side. The tall second lieutenant waves at them, his blue eyes bright and happy in the warm morning sun. Beside him, Breda is walking in no less of happy spirits but with less exuberance.

“Glad you guys could make! We weren’t sure if we’d catch you outside.” Havoc says, an easy grin on his face.

Breda raises a hand in a purposefully sloppy salute and then lifts his other to show the plastic bag hanging off his fingertips. “Yo. I’ve got breakfast wraps if you’re hungry.”

“Uh.” Ed says, very coherently.

“What?” Al says, a bit more coherently.

They glance at each other and then back to the men standing before them.

Ed hasn’t known Havoc and Breda for a long time (slightly less than a year) but he does really like the two of them. Breda is more reserved and harder to read, but has never failed to have food on hand to share with Ed and when he first joined Mustang’s crew, he gave him the low-down on the higher-ups and which Generals to try to stay clear of. (For reasons he didn’t specify, but the look on his face was grave enough that Ed, despite his stubbornness, didn’t push it. It wasn’t until Ed and Al ran into General Harthrow on the way out of Central Command did Ed realize just how disgusting and downright conniving military personnel can be; he’d only been a state alchemist for a little over four months and hadn’t up to that point met the man, although Breda had relayed Mustangs very insistent commands to not come within a ten-mile radius of him. After speaking with the General for less than three minutes Ed realized that the Colonel might _actually_ have a reason his warnings, and if it hadn’t been for the Flame Alchemist’s timely intervention, Ed’s pretty sure he would have been stripped of his rank for insubordination and then court-martialed for assaulting a superior officer.

(So maybe Ed is also grateful to the Colonel Bastard for his incredibly believable and improvised tale of Alphonse being a disciple of a completely made-up deity and ‘following a rare religious custom of denying his body and focusing on the spirit by encasing himself in a suit of armor and as such, would not and could not remove said suit of armor, regardless of the number of times demanded, sir.’ Ed doesn’t know how Mustang was able to then stand there and look like a perfect doll while Harthrow insulted him to his face, but the man didn’t even bat an eyelash; just responded to the racist comments being thrown in his face with one simple remark, placed a hand on either of Ed and Al’s shoulders, and excused them. Ed hasn’t encountered Harthrow since, and frankly, he hopes he doesn’t anytime soon)). 

At the boy’s continued silence, Havoc looks at them quizzically. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

Havoc is by far the most easy-going and inviting of the men who serve under Mustang and (possibly because of that fact) gets chewed out by the Colonel almost as much as Ed does. It’s interesting because from the interactions Ed’s witnessed between the two, the line of subordinate and friends is weirdly blurred. Half the time Ed can’t tell if Mustang and Havoc are joking around while pretending to be serious or if they actually are. Even though Havoc likes to make jokes and will use any excuse to watch the drama that unfolds during the debriefing sessions Ed has the Colonel, he’s never been unkind to either Elric brother and always has a smile to give them. (And, when the second lieutenant gets really happy or annoyed, his country drawl becomes more pronounced, which always reminds Ed a little bit of home).

“I mean,” Ed says slowly, looking between the two men. “What’s going on? Why are you both outside? I thought Colonel Bastard had a mission for me.”

“He said it was urgent?” Al tacks on.

Havoc snorts at Ed’s crude nickname while Breda raises an eyebrow.

“Huh. Guess he didn’t tell you? Aw hell, whatever. We’ll show you when we get there, then.”

“Wait, what?” Ed says again. “And why are you two dressed like that?”

Havoc glances down at his athletic light blue t-shirt and black shorts, a duffel back slung across one shoulder and then looks at his best friend, who’s dressed in a very similar manner. “You mean civies? Pal, we don’t live in our uniforms, you know, we do wear regular clothes.”

Breda nods, and reaches in his plastic bag and passes Ed a wrap. It smells absolutely _delicious_. “Yeah, ‘sides we’re not working today, and it’d be really difficult to play our game in our uniforms.”

Havoc _mmm’s_ in agreement.

“Wait, so you’re not working today?” Al asks. “Isn’t the Colonel, though?”

“Yeah,” Ed pipes in. “He dragged my ass all the way over here so he’d better be here as well!”

“And what do you mean by ‘game’?” Al adds.

Havoc and Breda exchange another glance, their faces unreadable to the two brothers standing in front of them. Some silent conversation must have taken place between the two friends because after a few minutes they turn back to the two boys and nod in agreement.

Ed blinks. _Huh. So_ that’s _what that feels like._

“Right, well then. We’ll show you when we get there!” Havoc says cheerfully. He loops an around Ed’s shoulders, grabs Al’s metal bicep, and spins them around. (Which, is somewhat impressive considering Ed is a little bit more than five feet of pure spite because _Colonel Bastard_ and Al is a suit of armor over seven feet tall). “But for now, let’s get going, I really wanna start playing!”

“Playing _what?_ And why didn’t Colonel Bastard mention this!?” Ed squawks, trying to keep pace with Havoc’s _freakishly_ long legs and Al’s stumbling wide strides. (His little brother is trying desperately not to step on their toes, which is hard because Havoc has _freakishly_ long legs that are basically prancing about). “Where the hell are we going?”

Breda flaps a hand side to side in a _don’t worry about it_ gesture next to Ed’s side. “We’ll explain once we get there, trust us, Chief. Come on, the car’s this way.”

Ed stares at him the best he can while trying to keep up with Al and Havoc and keep ahold of his breakfast wrap. “What the actual fu-”

“Oh my gosh,” Al says, still being pulled by Havoc. “We’re being _kidnapped_.”

Havoc just laughs.

\--

“You have _got to be fucking_ kidding me.”

Havoc’s cherry laugh comes again, and if Ed wasn’t 100% convicted in his ‘ _I am going to kill Colonel Bastard Roy Mustang’_ life’s mission (sub life mission to finding the stone, of course) he is 120% sure he is now.

“Oh hey,” Breda says, his left hand shielding his eyes against the bright sun as he looks down at the people assembled by the wooden tables next to the field. “The whole crew is here!”

“Um,” Al says, “is there a reason we’re at a park and, you know, not in the Colonel’s office receiving instructions for our assignment, or is this just, like.” Al pauses, glances at his brothers’ murderous face, and turns back to the two men who have started making their way down the hill and to the open grassy field below. “What is going on?”

“Oh, he’s going to _get it now-_ ” Ed snarls, stomping off after the two men, dragging Al behind him.

Havoc looks over his shoulder as they descend towards the open park space. “It’s tradition! We couldn’t let you guys spend your first year in the military with us and miss out on celebrating National Hero’s Day in the traditional Team Mustang manner- that would be _awful._ ”

“Tradition?” Al asks.

“ _Team Mustang?”_ Ed gapes.

“Hey!” Breda calls, waving as they get closer to the group of people clustered around a few wooden picnic benches.

“Oh, great! You guys are here! Now we can get started.” Kain Fuery is the first to greet them and is looking at the four of them with a beaming smile, waving to the boys enthusiastically. Ed’s not sure if he’s ever seen the small communications specialist look this…free and excited.

“You did bring the ball, right Havoc?” Falman asks, looking up from where’s messing with something on the table.

Ed halts, staring at the almost _domestic_ scene that is unfolding before his eyes. He’s never thought about these people in any other situation outside of Mustang’s office and their military blues, and seeing them wearing casual clothes at a park while setting out platters of food is downright, absolutely, _freaky._

“Yup,” Havoc says, swinging the duffle bag off from across his shoulder and holding it. “I’ve got’em all; ball, markers, and jerseys.”

“Perfect,” a new voice says from the side. “The football that Maes brought is absolute shit.”

“No. Way.” Ed says. Seeing Mustang’s men in civies is weird enough, but the Colonel _himself?_ Ed didn’t even think the man _owned_ normal clothes.

Roy Mustang is standing in front of him, an amused expression on his face, one hand resting on his hip and the other holding a… _football?_ Like the rest of the people gathered at the park, the Flame Alchemist is wearing athletic shorts and a black exercise tee. His black eyes are staring back at Ed and Ed just _knows_ he’s silently laughing at him.

“Colonel Bastard!” Ed yells, gearing up to let out the tirade that he’s been mentally rehearsing since the drive over in one, beautiful, melodious rant.

“Ah, glad you could make it, Fullmetal,” Mustang says with obnoxiously fake joy. “I know it was a _tall_ order on rather _short_ notice but-”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE CAN’T EVEN REACH A DOORKNOB _?”_ Ed screeches at the man but loses his train of thought as his brains starts going through his ever-growing list of _What the Actual Fuck is Going On?_

First, it’s a national holiday that is apparently celebrated by Team Mustang (… _Team Mustang??)_ at a park, with a bunch of other people; at the other picnic bench, Ed can see Hawkeye talking with two other people Ed doesn’t know but recognizes from Central Command. (So, other military personnel). Further across are several other adults chatting or tying on shoes and drinking from water bottles. And just like Mustang, Havoc, and Breda, none of them are wearing military uniforms. In fact, they all look like they’re about to head for a two-hour workout session at the gym.

“-I’m glad you and Al are able to join our _little_ party.” Roy finishes, his smirk morphing into an evil grin because _of course_ the bastard won’t let Ed have the last word. (Well, if that’s what he thinks, he’s got another thing coming because Ed is no quitter. To be honest, he isn’t a winner either, considering that almost all his interactions with the Flame Alchemist end with Colonel Bastard getting in the last word, but Ed hasn’t made it this far in just twelve years by being a push-over. (Ed is, maybe, possibly, also grateful to the man standing in front of him for giving him a reason to not give up and keep walking after _that_ night, but that’s a thought Ed keeps very, very private, and very much so to himself.)).

“You bastard, what is going on? Don’t tell me you forced me to stay here in Central and miss taking my vacation time just to chill at a park with you. Because I have two words to say to that; _hell no._ ” Ed snarls, jabbing his finger in Mustang’s face.

Mustang, because he is a _bastard,_ just grins wider. “Ah, my apologies, Fullmetal. I must have forgotten to mention today’s _big_ plans to you during our last debrief. A _small_ mistake on my part.” 

“That’s _it,_ ” Ed hisses. _(Why the hell has ever thought this man was_ cool?) “I’m going to shove my very solid, very _metal_ foot, right in the middle of your obnoxious _face_ and-”

There’s a commotion from the back as the other people who were preoccupied start noticing the absolute destruction that is about to unfold.

“-Brother, I told you, you can’t, we need the money!” Al interrupts.

“Not as much as I need to kick him! It would be _therapy for my childhood trauma,_ Al!”

“-I’d like to see you even _try_ to kick me the face, Fullmetal. Frankly, I would give you a free pass if you could even reach that high-”

There’s a screech that sounds like a rabid animal as Ed lunges forward, only prevented from planting his foot in Mustang’s face (or lower, Ed would have taken either as a win) by Al grabbing him by his collar and holding him back.

“By the way, hi Al,” Roy says turning to Ed’s brother, completely ignoring Ed’s string of curses and insults. “Glad you were able to join us.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, Colonel Mustang,” Al startles, not expecting to have been addressed.

Ed’s spastic attention jumps from his piece of shit of a commanding office (and his muttered “ _it’s so refreshing talking to an Elric with actual_ manners”) to his little brother, watching Al reply to some question the Colonel Bastard asked, Ed’s good mood start to slip away.

_(…Wait, good mood? Wasn’t he just about bash Mustang’s face in like, two seconds ago?)_ Initially, when the brothers had first started out with the military, the attention Al received was never-ending. Because who _wouldn’t_ see a man wearing an entire suit of armor and not look or say something? But although the initial reactions were always huge, the attention was quick to go. Ed isn’t sure if it’s because- while his brother is expressive (despite not having a _human body_ Al still manages to convey human emotions through solid steel. Seriously, his little brother is _amazing_ )- almost everyone gets psyched out or lose interest quickly, happier to pretend as if he isn’t there. Eventually, Ed realized that Al _expects_ it now, being ignored by others and not spoken to.

Ignored by everyone, except, apparently, the people in Mustang’s office. Since Ed’s signed his life away to be a dog of the military under Mustang’s command, the man has almost always specifically acknowledged Al. Why, or if it is even a conscience thing, Ed doesn’t know, but he’s come to be silently grateful for it.

“-you do this every year?” Al is asking as Ed’s attention is brought back to the present.

“That’s right, ever since Fuery joined my unit.”

“Why the heck do we need to be here, then? I have better ways of spending my time than hanging out with you of all people!” Ed exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. “And I mean, _much_ better.”

“Sorry,” Mustang says, not looking sorry at all. “It’s Tradition, with a capital T. You two are part of my team which means it's non-negotiable.”

(A small corner of Ed’s mind jumps at those words. _Part of my team, part of_ my _team._ He scowls harder and tells himself to shut up; that doesn’t mean _anything._ Besides, it not like he _wants_ to be part of Mustang’s lame-ass team anyways).

“Bullshit,” Ed responds. “You can’t actually _order_ me to,” he blinks in surprise as his brain registers what they’re here to do. “…play football.”

Mustang just _looks_ at him. “Oh _really?_ ”

Ed _looks_ at him right back. (Ha, Mustang, two can play this game. After all, Ed’s not dumb, stealing Mustang’s moves and using them against him to purposefully be a pain in the ass is one of the reasons Ed was _born)._ “Yeah, _really_. This is stupid, and I am leaving. _Goodbye, asshole._ ”

“I don’t know, Brother,” Al says quietly. “It sounds kind of fun.”

Ed jerks around to look at Al, who’s looking at the others gathering around them.

“We’ve never done something like this before,” Al continues, oblivious to Mustang’s keen gaze and Ed’s shadowed eyes. “I think it might be neat to try.”

There’s no debate, no contest anymore. Ed would give _anything_ to make his little brother happy, even for three seconds. If playing football with a bunch of men and women from the Amestrian military on his day off will give Al those three seconds of happiness, then Ed will gladly play football until it kills him.

“That’s right,” Havoc smiles, coming over to stand next to Mustang. “Football’s super fun, I promise. And ‘sides, it’s like Mustang said; this is a yearly tradition!”

“A yearly tradition for us to kick your asses and get free drinks, you mean!”

A man wearing sweats and purple tee slings has seemingly appeared right next to them, slinging an arm over Mustangs shoulders, his green eyes bright behind his glasses and grins at the Elric brothers (who are trying to contain their shock at someone so casually hanging off of the Flame Alchemist and at, well, _everything_ ).

“That’s heresy and you know it, Hughes!” Havoc fires back.

“Maes, you’ve got five seconds to let go of me before I _accidentally_ do something I might regret. Also, Havoc’s right. You’ve won only _twice._ ”

Maes Hughes huffs, slipping his arm off Mustang’s shoulders. “You’re such a grumpy pants, Roy. And that’s _twice out of three games_ which is basically a winning streak.” Mustang is scowling back him but Hughes is either not caring or flat out ignoring him because in less than one second later he is reaching over to energetically shake Ed and then Al’s hands. (Ed already likes this man because anyone who can so flippantly raise a middle finger at the Bastard Colonel deserves an award. Multiple awards). “It’s great to finally meet you both! I’m Maes Hughes, Lieutenant Colonel in Investigations and Grumpy Pants Roy here's best friend from when we were kids, although he’ll gravely deny it like the liar and ass that he is. But it’s a pleasure, the Fullmetal Alchemist, in the flesh!”

“Uh,” Al starts. “I’m not the-”

(Ed stares. _Childhood best friend?_ Ed didn’t think Mustang has ever been a child. The man was probably born wearing military blues, a shit-eating grin, and totally full of himself.)

“Ah, you’re here. Hi Ed, hi Al,” Riza Hawkeye has made her way over, giving the two boys a slight wave and effectively cutting off Ed’s award-worthy rant he’d been about to deliver and Al’s stuttering response to Hughes’ wild handshake. Her hair, which is usually clipped back is flowing freely around her shoulders and she’s also wearing casual clothes; black long sleeves and jogging pants.

“Hi, Ms. Hawkeye!” Al says, his voice a bit louder than normal, focused completely on the first lieutenant. Ed rolls his eyes at his brother fondly and gives Hawkeye an honest smile, copying his brother’s greeting. (But with just Hawkeye, no Ms. or lieutenant).

“Glad you boys could make,” She says. Then her eyes zero in on Mustang. “ _I’m sure_ the Colonel told you what to expect for today?”

Mustang gives Hawkeye a (what Ed’s sure he thinks is but actually _isn’t)_ charming smile chuckles nervously. “Ah, Lieutenant, I don’t know that I had the chance. My day was absolutely _packed_ yesterday _,_ you see, and unfortunately, I wasn’t able to brief Fullmetal on it.”

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow, looking completely unimpressed with the Colonel’s bullshit. “Oh _really?”_

“Al,” Ed nudges his brother, looking at Hawkeye with devotion. “Have I ever told you that Hawkeye is my favorite?”

Al nods, whispering back, “I think you might have mentioned it, like, a hundred times, brother.”

“Hey now that we’re all here are we ready to play?” Fuery interrupts, stepping into their circle. His smile exuberant, and he looks at Mustang excitedly.

“Saved by the bell,” Havoc snickers, easily stepping aside and out of elbowing range from Mustang. 

“Definitely, Fuery,” Mustang replies, immediately turning to the man and away from the _look_ that Hawkeye is giving him. “Let’s call over the others and get started.”

“Yeah,” Havoc’s grin is more teeth and smile as he locks eyes with Hughes. “I’m ready to whoop your asses and pay you back for last time.”

Hawkeye shifts her weight to one foot and crosses her arms, her challenging eyes shifting from Mustang to Havoc. “Big words, Havoc. It’d be embarrassing if you can’t back them up.”

There’s a “ _Ooohhh”_ from Hughes and Mustang manages to connect his elbow into Hughes’ side. “Just get ready to buy the next round of drinks, Lieutenant,” Roy grins, tossing the football up in the air and catching it with one hand. “The losing team buys, as you know.”

Hughes slowly pushes his glasses up as he and Hawkeye share a look. “I think I’ll need to repeat those words back to you in a few hours, Roy, dear.”

Ed and Al exchange a glance as they look between the military officers standing there, facing off against each other. The other people from the second picnic bench have started coming over at Fuery’s excited call of, “Hey, we’re starting!”

“Brother, what did we just get roped into?”

“Al, I have no _freaking clue._ ” 

\--

As it turns out, the Team Mustang tradition for National Heroes Day is to gather at a rather obscure and private park, have a _picnic,_ and play _football_. Ed had asked Falman they _why_ behind it all as Hughes starts introducing Ed and AL to the others, and simply got a look in response. (His look had an uncanny resemblance to Hawkeye’s, and now Ed is wondering if they all spend too much time with each other). “Ask the Colonel,” Falman replied, incredibly unhelpfully _._ “I think it would be more purposeful if he tells you.” (Because _that_ is super explanatory and uncryptic).

“This is Maria and Denny-”

“-Hi! Maria Ross, at your service-”

“-Denny Brosh, nice to meet you! Are you really _the_ Fullmetal Alche-”

“-and this is my lovely wife Gracia, the most beautiful, excellent, wisest woman in the whole world!” pauses long enough to wrap his arms around his wife who smiles kindly at the boys. Ed and Al almost miss her “Hi, it’s great to finally meet you boys, Roy’s told us so much about you both!” because they’re staring at her very round, very large, belly.

Ed blinks. _“Roy’s told us so much about you both”_ wait what did that _mean?_

“-and our baby, who’s due in three weeks, and I just know our child will be the best-”

“-and this is Rebecca-” Mustang interrupts forcefully, grabbing Hughes by the arm and pulling him towards the group while motioning to a woman with curly black hair who’s standing next to Hawkeye.

“Yo,” Rebecca greets with a big smile, “nice to meet you!”

“-and that basically wraps up introductions, great, let’s play!” Mustang ignores Hughes’ cries of “you didn’t let me finish telling them about the baby!” and instead marches the man over towards the others.

“Gracia normally plays defender for Riza’s team,” Breda explains as Havoc hands Gracia a whistle to wear around her neck and the others form up the rest of the circle. “But since she’s like, nine months pregnant, she’ll be acting as referee.”

“Which is a lucky break for us,” Fuery pipes up, grinning. “Mrs. Hughes is almost impossible to get past when she’s defending.”

“Here’re the jerseys,” Havoc says, tipping the duffel bag that he brought with him upside and dumping out the bibs. “And yes, before you ask, I _did_ wash them this time, so hold your horses.”

“Good man,” Rebecca smiles sweetly, but with more teeth than necessary.

“Have you boys ever played football before?” Hawkeye asks as she reaches down and grabs a white jersey.

“Uh, well, no.” Ed says, looking at the ground. “Never really had people to play with, and ‘sides, Al and I liked reading better.”

He looks up and sees Hawkeye gazing at him. She nods, something like understanding in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I didn’t play much growing up either, but it’s pretty straight forward for the most part. I think you boys won’t have a hard time getting the hang of it at all.”

“Yeah,” Breda says, grabbing a blue jersey. “We’ll explain all the rules in a second.”

There’s a bit of commotion as they all start sorting themselves and preparing for the game. Ed looks around at all the people gathered here, pulling jerseys over their hands, tightening shoelaces, or drinking water. There’s a spread of food on the picnic tables and the weather is warm and perfect to spend outside. There’s a weird sense of comradery among everyone, jokes being thrown back and forth and Ed realizes with a start that it’s something he’s unfamiliar with but it’s _nice_. He looks over to Mustang who’s talking with Fuery and the other woman, Maria, and…doesn’t know which emotion to settle on (or even _allow_ ). His commanding officer, who Ed has interacted with more times than he cares to remember, isn’t smirking or acting like the world’s biggest douchebag, smug in his status and looks. Roy Mustang looks…relaxed. Ed’s conclusion does nothing to help his confusing feelings. Should he be thankful that Mustang even invited them? (To keep Ed on a leash and make sure he doesn’t cause trouble? Because he _actually_ wanted Ed and Al to be there?)

Ed knows that his and Mustang’s competitive and insult-full relationship isn’t simply that, but what it actually is, Ed has no clue. It’s almost impossible to tell what Mustang is thinking, and Ed _hates_ that. (It’s the same feeling he got with his father before the man up and left them; Ed can recall vividly the unreadable expression the man wore while looking at him and it _pisses. Him. Off.)_

With Mustang though, it’s more than that, because Ed realizes that he does care what Mustang thinks of him. And then he has to deal with the fact that none of his feelings makes any rational sense to him. Ed just always finds himself (for reasons beyond his own compression) wanting to impress the man (and then hating himself for _even feeling like that)_ , but also royally pissed off because Mustang is an _absolute bastard_ 99% of the time, angry at himself because _it's his fault Al lost his body_ and _so full of guilt._ Ed is sometimes so full of emotions that are all warring against each other that he usually ends up aiming all those pent-up feelings at the Colonel, usually during their debriefing sessions. (It’s no wonder Mustang confuses him, Ed confuses _himself)_.

Ed can’t begin to count the number of times Mustang has reamed him out for his (and Ed quotes) ‘obscene expense reports that HR and Accounting are going to give me _hell_ for, not to _mention_ the city’s mayor’ or for ‘acting irresponsibly, recklessly, and needlessly endangering yourself and others!’ among many, _many,_ others.

But then there have been times when Ed remembers being laid up in the hospital after getting injured or hurt during a mission and waking up to see Mustang sitting next to him, his eyes tired and unreadable. ‘Don’t you dare die on me, Fullmetal. The paperwork would be more of a pain in my ass than you are, and that’s an order.’ Ed’s always been too drugged up or in too much pain to really decipher the look in the man’s eyes; annoyance or concern?

Or the one time Ed was having a horrible day, his nightmares constantly shoving themselves to the forefront of his mind and his guilt _eating him from the inside out_ and Mustang, instead of going through the debrief, simply ordered Ed to go with him on a coffee run. He ended up buying Ed a doughnut (and some of the men and a croissant for Hawkeye, so it’s not like Ed was _special_ or anything) from the coffee stand and simply said ‘when Al gets his body back, I’ll buy one for him too.’ At the time, Ed thought Mustang was mocking him, his inability to fulfill his mission, his guilt, his lack of _being able to do anything_ but when Ed met his eyes, it wasn’t any of those things. It was _confidence_ , confidence in Edward (like Mustang believed Ed would succeed because if he didn’t Mustang would _force_ him to). Mustang gazed at him for a moment longer, lifted a gloved hand, and ruffled his hair before turning to head back towards Central Command. ‘If there’s one person in this world that will pull off the impossible, it’s going to be the biggest pain in my ass the greatest terror Human Resources has ever known.’

Ed quickly averts his eyes as Mustang looks his direction, pretending not to notice his commanding officer’s raised eyebrow. _Stop thinking about, stop thinking about it!_

“Okay, since we wiped the floor with you losers last time, I vote we get to pull Al to our team,” Breda states, motioning with his chin towards the youngest alchemist.

“Me?” Al asks in surprise, pointing at himself.

Maes nods his head. “Sounds good to me.”

Havoc has his jersey half-pulled over his head. “Shut your face, Heymans. You _barely_ managed to make that last point through _sheer luck.”_

Fuery starts laughing, “Gosh that was hysterical.”

“Uh-huh, laugh it up, Kain,” Havoc says lowly. “We’ll see how funny it is when I _crush you_ and celebrate my sweet victory at the expense of your pitiful communications paycheck.” 

“ _Ooh,_ shots fired,” Denny mutters, looking excitedly between the two groups.

Breda smirks back. “Your just bitter because you missed the connecting pass from Mustang during the last minute and let the ball roll right past the goal post like. A. _Looser_.”

Rebecca doesn’t even bother hiding her laughter like Maria and is, even though they’re both wearing the same colored jersey as Havoc.

Havoc glares at his best friend and slowly flips him the bird.

“It was a pretty spectacular loss,” Falman mutters bitterly.

“Are you still mad about that, Falman?” Havoc groans.

“Okay boys, you’re both pretty,” Hawkeye says, interrupting before Havoc and Breda can go back at it. “But I agree though. Al, you’ll on our team, sound good?”

“Aw,” Havoc pretend whispers to Mustang, “Hawkeye called us pretty! Are you jealous?”

“Havoc, next time you go to light a cigarette, I will light you on fire. That is a promise.”

“Great, then it’s decided! Al, come over to the winning side, my boy.” Hughes cheers, motioning to his side of the circle opposite where Ed and Al are standing.

“Pray tell me,” Mustang interjects, turning to Hughes and ignoring Havoc’s panicked look. “When we decided that the winners of the previous match would be allowed to select new players first?” Mustang raises an eyebrow, shooting Breda and Hughes a look.

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow right back. “I believe that discussion _might_ have taken place _yesterday_ while you were out of the office _not_ reviewing last quarter’s financial reports and _not_ submitting your reviews to Production and R&D because you decided to _take some time and purchase flowers to send to Major General Armstrong_ to commemorate her birthday _.”_ There’s a pause, and then, “ _Sir_.”

There’s absolute dead silence, and Ed almost cackles with glee looking at Mustang’s face.

Mustang’s men are looking like they’re watching the latest episode to their favorite picture, Breda and Havoc openly snickering. 

“Ri,” Rebecca says, “I love you _so much_.”

“Yeesh,” Denny, who’s standing next to Al and Maria, mutters, looking at Hawkeye with some mixture of awe and horror. “That woman is _scary_.”

“I know.” Maria says, but she’s looking at Hawkeye like she’s just fell in love.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do.” Gracia, who’s mostly been observing up to this point says, and suddenly everyone is looking at her and giving her their full attention. Ed supposes that it must be powers of a nine-month pregnant woman. “Maes, you and Riza will have Breda, Kain, Denny, and Al.”

Hawkeye gives Mustang a triumphant look and beckons Al to go over to their side of the circle.

(“Looks like we’ll be competing against each other, brother,” Al says quietly, his voice excited.

Ed smirks at him. (He was preparing himself to pretend to have fun for Al’s sake, but is surprised to realize that he actually doesn’t need to). “Get prepared to _lose_ , then, little brother.”

Al pauses, and Ed just knows that if he were able to, he’d look at Ed the same way Granny does when he says something stupid. “Brave words, considering I _always win_ when we spar, and I’m sure this will be no different.” His voice is incredibly smug, like he’s been taking lessons from _Mustang._

“You little punk!” Ed says, but he can’t fight the grin that comes to his face.

Al laughs and moves over to stand next to Hawkeye with Denny and Fuery.

Ed is so, _so_ , grateful to hear that sound.)

“Jean, you and Roy will have Rebecca, Maria, Ed, and Falman. I think that’ll balance out nicely considering Al compensates for Jean and the teams are pretty evenly distributed.”

 _Compensates for Jean?_ Ed echoes in his head curiously. He looks between Havoc and Al, but doesn’t get it. And then the rest of her sentence computes.

“Me on the same team as the Bastard Colonel?” Ed gripes, jerking a thumb at Mustang. “Yeah, _no._ ”

There’s a noise that sounds vaguely like Denny or Maria is choking, no doubt hearing Ed referring to Mustang as Colonel Bastard for the first time.

(“How is he able to get away with that?”

“Youngest kid privileges?”

“I _like it._ ” That, from Rebecca).

Mustang gives Ed a very unimpressed look. “What Gracia says goes, Fullmetal. Live with it.”

“Yeah, the one time she wasn’t here it literally took us _forty-five_ minutes to figure out how to divvy up the teams. It was ridiculous.” Havoc mutters.

“I mean, we _did_ have Major Armstrong with us that time,” Fuery adds. “The _whole_ day was ridiculous.”

“I guess we can be somewhat grateful he had to attend his family’s event this time,” Falman muses.

“That’s my wife!” Hughes cheers proudly, jerking Mustang back and forth and practically cooing at Gracia.

“Maes, _we know_.”

“Alright,” Gracia smiles at Mustang and Ed and claps her hands. “I think that’s settled. Whites, you’re on the right, Blues on the left. Whites, you’ll be kicking off first. Ed, Al, do you know the rules of football?”

Ed shifts, slightly uncomfortable at being the center of everyone’s attention and the focus of Gracia’s kind smile.

“Um, no, sorry.” Al answers, sounding sheepish.

“No worries at all,” Gracia says, nothing but kindness in her expression. It’s a type of look Ed remembers seeing on his own mother’s face and his heartaches. “I’ll have Roy and Maes explain the rules in further detail you when you head over to your teams, sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Al replies happily. Ed just nods.

\--

“Okay Havoc,” Mustang says as Team Blue huddles around in a tight circle. “What’s the play?”

Ed looks at Mustang, surprised that he’s differing to Havoc. Mustang practically lives to be in command with his never-ending orders of ‘ _do this,_ Fullmetal,’ and _‘go here,_ Fullmetal.’

Mustang, noticing Ed’s look, jerks his chin at the blond next to him. “Since the implications seem to have gone over your head, Fullmetal, I’ll clue you in; Havoc’s the football nerd and expert here, and as such, dictates our plays.”

“Really?” Ed blinks, not expecting that.

“Yup,” Havoc says proudly. “You’re looking at East City’s Eagles’ MVP for two years in a row.”

“We get it, you’re a football expert,” Rebecca says, but she’s grinning at him. “We _know_. What we _don’t know_ is the winning strategy that’ll help us win five goals.”

“We’ll need to compensate for the fact that Hughes has Hawkeye, Breda, _and_ Alphonse,” Falman interjects.

“Not to mention that if they decided to put Al as the goalkeeper, we’re at a serious disadvantage,” Maria adds.

Havoc nods, looking strangely serious and focused. “Right, but we’ve got Ed and me. Mustang, you’ll be a middle fielder with Ed, and Falman and Maria, you two are on defense. Becks, you’ve got goalie and I’ll go as a forward.”

Mustang looks at Ed contemplatively. Ed scowls back. “You sure about that, Havoc?”

Havoc nods. “I doubt Hughes and Hawkeye will put Al as goalkeeper, Breda’s too good at that for them to switch him out. My guess is they’ll put Al and Hawkeye as middle fielders, and Denny and Fuery as defense. Hughes’ll go as a forward so that they way they’ll have a player to snap the ball to once Hawkeye and Al get the ball.”

“You _are_ a football nerd,” Ed breathes, looking at Havoc in a new light after the man finishes a rather impressively detailed play strategy. Ed would never have guessed; for all Ed’s interacted with Mustang and his men, it’s always either been in the office or the rare occasions they’d visit him the hospital. Personal lives were never a discussion that’d really come up. It makes Ed curious about the rest of them. (It makes him curious about the Colonel; did he grow up playing football?).

“This football nerd is going to win this match and our free drinks,” Mustang grins devilishly. “ _And_ the ability to smear that in Maes’ face for _a whole year_. Let’s _win this_.”

The sun is bright and there’s a calm breeze blowing through the park. It’s a perfect day to spend outside. Despite his missed vacation opportunity, confusing feelings, apprehension at playing a game he’s never played before, the crushing anxiety at not being any closer to accomplishing his mission and being within five feet of Mustang’s smug face (okay, that last one isn’t horrible), Edward Elric grins back.

“ _Go team.”_

\--

It’s a little while later that Ed realizes two things; first, that Havoc makes playing football look easy, and second, that playing football is decidedly _not_ as easy as it looks. And between those two realizations, Ed concludes that playing football with Mustang’s men and the others is actually really, really fun. (Not that he’d ever tell Mustang that, hell no).

“Two minutes left, don’t let them through,” Hawkeye’s voice rings out with the same authority and confidence she usually displays. “Fall back on defense!”

“Mustang, I’m open!” Havoc yells as he sprints across the field. He’s finally managed to break away from Hughes but the Investigations officer is right behind him.

“Don’t let him pass!” Hughes calls, and Ed looks over towards Mustang as they both run upfield to where Breda is standing a little outside his goal box.

“Mustang, watch behind you!” Rebecca shouts from behind them. Ed almost doesn’t see his own little brother dash up behind the Colonel.

“Pass it!” Maria yells at Mustang.

“Al, block his left!” Hawkeye says as she and Al box the Colonel in.

“I know!” Mustang yells back at Maria. “Ed, incoming!”

With a snap of his ankle, Mustang sends the ball flying straight in between Al’s legs and towards Ed.

“Shoot, I’m sorry!” Al apologizes to his team members; it's not the first time Mustang’s used that trick on him.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind!” Fuery calls back.

Ed almost misses connecting his own foot with the pass from Mustang but manages to make it and continue dribbling it up towards the goal. “Got it!” Ed crows. He’s reached Hughes’ defensive line, Hawkeye and Al not pausing for a second before coming straight at him. In front of him, Denny and Fuery move forward, calling out to Hawkeye and Hughes.

Ed looks towards the goalie box several yards in front of him and catches Breda’s eye.

“Bring it, Chief.” Breda grins, spreading out his arms.

“Ed, pass it, pass it!” Mustang shouts as Havoc slips out from around Hughes and makes a break forward.

Ed can hear Falman and Maria shouting something from behind him and barely manages to send the ball flying in Havoc’s direction before Al comes sliding in, missing the ball by a hair.

“Don’t let Havoc get the ball!” Breda roars.

One-minute left. _Come on, come on, come on!_ Ed thinks as he shouts Havoc’s name. The man is once again boxed in by Hawkeye, Hughes, and Denny but now Ed understands why Havoc was the MVP of his school, the man can _play_. A few moves later, he’s shooting the ball behind him to Mustang, who’s dashing away from Fuery. Mustang jumps and bumps the ball with his chest to control the pass, and immediately starts dribbling forward.

“Ed, move up and get open!” Havoc yells and Ed wastes no time following through.

“Why don’t you listen to _me_ like that?” Mustang says, but his expression when he and Ed make eye contact isn’t annoyed. He’s _grinning._ Not the usual shit-eating ‘oh I didn’t see you there, Fullmetal’ smug bastard grin, it’s one that makes him look ten years younger and _excited_. “What a little brat.”

“Say that again Mustang, _I dare you_ ,” Ed fires back, but he can’t quite keep his own grin off his face.

“I said, what,” Mustang repeats, dancing out of the way as Hughes breaks away from Havoc and races to defend against Mustang. “A little brat!” With that, Mustang _kicks_ the ball and it shoots towards Ed like a bullet.

“He’ll never get that!” Denny says dumbfoundedly, watching the insane pass.

“No, he will! Block him!” Al shouts, racing after Ed.

“Breda!” Hawkeye calls, whirling towards the goalkeeper.

“Go, Ed!”

Ed’s heart is racing and he can feel sweat trickle down his brow. The shouts behind him from Rebecca, Falman, and Maria are louder, and he can hear Mustang and Havoc calling his name.

“Block him!” Al says again, but too late. Ed makes the pass, jumping high enough to kick the ball with his metal leg and slam it down. The ball flies sharply and rockets past Breda’s fingertips by a centimeter, stopping only when it’s caught by the mesh netting of the goal.

“What…” Denny breathes, staring at Ed.

There’s silence across the field as they all stare at where the ball has come to rest inside the goal box. The moment is broken by Gracia awarding the point and trilling the whistle, signaling the end of the game. Havoc is the first to move after that, running over towards Ed and shouting excitedly.

“Yes, yes, yes!” He crows, grabbing Ed around the shoulders and jerking him back and forth. And then all the others are there, Rebecca slapping Ed on the back and Maria and Falman giving high-fives. The rest of the players are gathering around, Denny and Fuery exchanging fist bumps with Mustang and Havoc and there’s a jumble of noise of friendly banter and cheers.

Hawkeye reaches over and squeezes Ed’s shoulder, her eyes bright. “That was nicely done, Edward. Good game.”

Ed stares at her, not able to stop the blush that comes to his cheeks. “Th-thank you, Hawkeye.”

(She smiles at him in response, and Ed can’t help but feel so incredibly special to be on the receiving end of it.)

“Man, what a game!” Hughes says cheerily as he walks over to them. He’s also smiling, despite having lost for the second time today. “I can’t believe that last play! But we’ll be sure to pay you back real nicely next time.”

“Hell yeah,” Breda adds as he joins them. He narrows his eyes at Hughes. “But next time, let’s not put the Chief and the Colonel on the same team; those two are ridiculous when they decide to work together.”

“What-” Mustang starts, looking over and blinking at Breda.

“Us? _Working together_?” Ed gapes, pointing a finger back and forth between him and Mustang. But even as he says it, Ed realizes that they might be onto something; for whatever reason, he did feel like he and Mustang had found a good grove together while playing.

“They do make an annoyingly good team,” Al gripes, but Ed can hear the teasing undertones in his voice. “But don’t worry, next time we’ll mop the floor with you!”

Ed continues to gape at his brother as Hughes gives him a high five and Hawkeye laughs at Mustang’s face.

“Hey, we’re heading over to eat!” Fuery calls, waving over at them. “Mrs. Hughes brought her apple pie!”

“And quiche!” Gracia adds, a laugh in her voice.

“I’ve got beer!” Denny says, and there are cheers from all the others as they move over to the tables.

“Aaand that’s my cue,” Breda says, jokingly tossing Mustang a sloppy. “Good play on defense, Al. Hey Fuery! Don’t start serving without me!”

“Do you hear that Roy, do you?” Hughes gasps, clutching at his chest. “My wife is an angel and her talent is truly endless! She’s an expert football referee and amazing cook; she’s just perfect!”

Mustang rolls his eyes but doesn’t groan in exasperation like usual. “Yes Maes, I promise you, _we know_. She puts up with you, after all.”

“Hey!”

“Riza, Jean!” Rebecca yells where she’s standing beside Maria, Denny, and Falman. “Come on, let’s grab some food!” 

“Sure, we’ll be right over,” Riza calls back.

Mustang shoots Havoc a sly look. “On a first-name-basis with Catalina, are you? Anything you want to share with us?”

Havoc can’t stop the blush that rises to his cheeks and sputters in denial. “No! N-nothing, really! Come on, Hawkeye, let’s go get some food!” He says a little too loudly as he starts marching away.

Hawkeye shares a glance with Mustang and then looks over at Havoc’s retreating back and shakes her head. “Men are such oblivious _idiots_ sometimes.”

“Huh?” Ed asks, looking between them and not getting what they’re referring to.

Hughes laughs. “He’ll get there, Riza, don’t worry. Love like that just takes time and careful steps, you know, like how it is for you and Roy!”

“ _Hughes,”_ Mustang says slowly, turning to glare at his friend.

Hawkeye’s voice is a cold as ice. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Colonel, to _what exactly_ are you referring to?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Hughes says, flapping a hand back and forth and moving backwards toward the tables. “Well, I’m going to go grab some food and kiss my beautiful, perfect wife. Roy, get married and you’d be able to relate to that! Maybe to someone with blond hair and has near-perfect aim? Ha ha, and that look is _my_ cue, see you at the picnic tables!”

“I’m going to kill him one of these days, I swear,” Mustang mutters darkly watching Hughes make a hasty retreat.

Hawkeye shakes her head and starts to reply but Rebecca shouts her name again.

“What’s going on?” Ed mutters to Al, still not following the whole ‘love takes time’ and ‘like you and Roy’ thing.

Al sighs. “Oh Brother, I don’t think you’d understand.”

“What the hell’s that mean?” Ed squawks back.

“Want to join us, Al?” Hawkeye asks kindly, motioning towards the others at the tables. “I know you can’t eat right now but your company would be more than welcomed.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hawkeye, I’d love to!” Al says and hurries after Hawkeye, ignoring Ed’s “hey! What does that _mean_?”

And then its just Mustang and Ed standing out in the middle of the football field, dirty with sweat and grass stains. They look at each other, neither saying anything and then Mustang starts to follow in Hawkeye’s direction.

“Come on, Fullmetal,” Mustang calls over his shoulder. “I told them to bring extra food for you; for someone so small you sure can eat a scary amount.”

Ed doesn’t move, and strangely enough, he doesn’t feel the volcanic urge to explode at the short joke. He looks at his commanding officer’s back, and then at the others gathered around the tables; at Hughes, Havoc, Hawkeye and Al who are making their way over, chatting about something together. There’s noise and laughter and slaps on the back, and Ed just doesn’t understand.

“Mustang,” Ed calls after the man, and the Colonel stops and turns back to look at him. His gaze is piercing, and Ed is struck with the thought of how _different_ Mustang can look depending on the situation. “Why,” Ed pauses, and the continues. “Why did you bring Al and me to this today?” _How did you know I couldn’t face going back home today?_ He meets the man’s black eyes. “How, did you know I,” Ed starts but can’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

_How did you know I need support right now?_

The hunt for the stone, the desperation to get Al’s body back, to keep moving forward like he promised himself he would…it is all so, so heavy sometimes. That’s why Ed was secretly grateful when Mustang told him he had a mission for him despite the holiday; going back home with absolutely no progress, leads, or _anything_ would be too much to bear. Ed has so, _so_ many doubts and fears and he absolutely _cannot_ show that ugliness to Al; his little brother doesn’t deserve that on top of everything else he has to carry.

But today, today was _good_. Ed’s always liked Hawkeye and the men who work with Mustang, but his relationship with them is a distant one; they joke and share food, but usually nothing more than that. Today, Ed was part of a _team,_ played two intense games of football, and cursed and shouted right along with them during the matches. It was fun and carefree, something Ed hasn’t experienced in a long, long time.

Mustang gazes back at Ed, his expression unreadable to Ed and serious. He’s silent for so long that Ed thinks he won’t reply when he finally looks away and towards his men gathered around the food. “Four years ago, Kain Fuery joined my unit.” He says simply, his black hair blowing in the breeze. “Havoc learned that he’d never had the chance to play football before, and so he decided that we should introduce him to it.”

Ed doesn’t say anything, despite his confusion at where Mustang is going with this.

“We decided to play a game together on National Hero’s Day since we could take paid time off; contrary to what you might think, we _do_ have actual jobs that take most of our time. That practice quickly became a Tradition for us, and since then we’ve done something like this every year. Although, Hughes and others decided to invite themselves over and join when they heard about it.” Mustang looks away from the others and stares back at Ed. His eyes look completely black, glittering in the sun. “Fuery never played football because, well, I won’t go into the details, but like you and Al but he joined the military to find a way to move forward, and so never had family or friends to play football _with_.” Mustang pauses and then continues. “Edward, most people use free days like this to spend time with their family. But as I’m sure you’ve noticed; my team is here with each other. We’re here because, for us, this team _is_ our family. _My_ team, one I’m in charge of and responsible for.”

Ed forces himself to breathe and tries to unclench his fists. His emotions are going all crazy again and he doesn’t know how to make them calm down. “But, why-?” Ed chokes and he desperately struggles to regain some control. _Do not cry, do not cry, do not cry._

_(“Sorry,” Mustang says, not looking sorry at all. “It’s Tradition, with a capital T. You two are part of my team which means it's non-negotiable.”)_

Mustang slowly approaches Ed and bends down onto one knee, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Edward,” he says quietly as Ed scrubs a hand across his eyes and tries to breathe without letting it come out in a sob. “You and your brother are part of my team. Recognizing what my men need- whether that’s a hospital, a doughnut, or just taking some time before heading back to Resembool- that’s what I’m here for.”

_(This team is our family. My team.)_

Ed swallows and counts it as a win that he only _slightly_ breakdowns in front of his commanding officer. _Don’t trust him!_ Part of his brain screams. _Remember what happened to the last man who you thought would help you? Your own father up and left you!_ Ed squeezes his eyes shut, telling that vicious part of himself to shut up. _Do you actually believe him?_

_(“Sorry,” Mustang says, not looking sorry at all. “It’s Tradition, with a capital T. You two are part of my team which means it's non-negotiable.”_

_You two are part of my team)_

Ed doesn’t know what to think; he’s seen Mustang spin lies to the higher-ups that are so convincing that Ed finds himself wanting to believe them and knows that Mustang is heartlessly pursuing another promotion. He’s heard the stories other soldiers whisper about him, _Hero of Ishval, Demon of the Sands._ Ed _knows_ that Mustang conniving and manipulative, and doesn’t hesitate to get the job done, whatever it may be.

But then, why? Why would he organize football matches and buy Ed doughnuts or give Al books to read at night while everyone else is sleeping? Why would he stand in front of General Harthrow and go out of his way to cover for Al and threaten a _General_ to never look at Ed again? Why would he go through the trouble of getting Ed and Al to play football with everyone and explain everything just to lie and abandon Ed later?

Ed feels Mustang lift his hand off his shoulder and then rest it lightly on his head. “I’m here for you and your brother, Ed,” he says just as quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

( _You two are part of my team)_

When Mustang doesn’t say anything further, Ed nods trying to clear his throat. “Yeah.” He says quietly. His emotions and thoughts still flying all over the place, but the feeling of comfort and belonging is so strong and Ed wants it, _wants_ it so desperately. Ed knows he’s made some stupid, _fucking stupid_ mistakes in the past, and he’s sworn to himself that he will do whatever is in his power to avoid others in the future. But, but. This one? This decision to believe Mustang? To put what little faith he has left into his hands and trust him to watch over him and Al? This decision might be one of the stupidest yet, but Ed decides that for right now, he’s not going to worry about that. For right now, he’s going to allow himself to trust.

 _If this is a mistake,_ Ed thinks, leaning into Mustang’s touch just a bit and unclenching his fists. _If this is a mistake, it's one I’ll have to live with too._

( _You two are part of my team)_

Ed nods his head one last time, giving himself a moment to get his act together before forcing himself to lift his head and look Mustang in the eyes. “Yeah,” He says, his voice rough. Ed looks Mustang in the eyes a moment longer before he adds with a slight smile, “’cause you’re a bastard.”

Mustang laughs, and just like that things feel like they’re back to normal. Ed believes they won’t talk about this again, just like Mustang’s never brought up any time he’s been there for Ed, but that’s honestly fine. Ed doesn’t quite know how to handle all of _this,_ and his chest hurts, but not the usual bad way where Ed feels like he’s drowning and can’t breathe; it hurts because Ed feels _at peace,_ if only for a little while.

“Come on, shorty. I want to eat some quiche before Maes devours it all.”

“Call me short one more time Mustang and I _will_ kick you. _With_ my automail foot.”

“In the face, right? Yeah, good luck.”

“Nah, I’m not above aiming _lower._ ”

Mustang rolls his eyes and sighs exasperatedly, but Ed can see the slight hint of a smile on his face.

“You are such a brat.”

Ed cackles and flips Mustang the bird, feeling happier now than he can remember for a long time. He looks at his brother and Hawkeye who are sitting next to Rebecca, the latter chatting with Havoc who has a huge smile on his face. Breda is still standing by one of the tables, talking with Gracia about her pie, and is trying to get Fuery to eat more food, complaining he’s too thin. Hughes is holding a camera, (which, where he got that from Ed isn’t sure), and is snapping photos, primarily of his wife but of the others as well. Falman is sitting beside Maria and Denny, watching with great amusement as poor Fuery ties to reassure Breda that, no really, he’s fine and has had plenty to eat.

Ed glances back to Mustang and blinks at the expression on his face. Its one of fondness and something else that Ed doesn’t know how to describe. He follows the man’s gaze to look at Hawkeye, who’s laughing at something Al’s saying, her hair catching the sunlight and making it look like its glowing.

Al looks up at that moment and catches Ed’s eye and excitedly waves at him, calling for him to come join.

“Come on, Mustang.” Ed says quietly, smiling back at Al. “Let’s go join the rest of the team.”

Mustang ruffles Ed hair one more time before nudging Ed forward. “Yeah, let’s.” He waves at Hawkeye and heads towards where she and Al are sitting, shouting at Hughes that there still better quiche left _or else_.

Ed looks at his commanding officer’s back and smiles, walking after him and towards his brother and the rest of the crew. 

_It’s a team, not a family. But really, they’re the same thing._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you tons for reading, and stay safe and healthy! Xoxo


End file.
